Wilting Black Rose
by Amzedel
Summary: There's a new girl at Arkham and the rogues have taken an interest. How will she react to her new life as a legally insane criminal, and more importantly, how can she be of use to the asylum inmates. OC
1. Chapter 1

**While I realize that I have two unfinished fanfictions, I wanted to finally start on the revision of my first Batman story. The original was too fast, too short, and too simple. This time around I want to develop the story more and go into other characters besides my OC.**

* * *

In a cold, damp cell, a woman sleeps; blissfully unaware of the trauma she's caused or the lives she's ruined. It may seem impossible, but she can't really recall the amount of time that had passed. It's happened before, for a few minutes, a few hours even, but this was so much longer than normal .

That's why, when she woke up, confused and scared in this new environment, she stopped to take a breath. Stress wasn't good for her. She knew that if she got too upset, she would just black out and not know when she'd wake up again.

"What's happening, I-I don't remember," she held her head in her hands, grabbing onto her shoulder-length hair. It was only up to her chin the last time she remembered.

"Don't get upset," she whispered to herself. Calming down, she lifted her head up enough to look around and saw herself surrounded by grey stone walls, the only thing in her tiny cell being the creaky cot she sat on. She drew her knees up to her chest, staring at the ceiling while her light flickered every so often.

"I should be more surprised," her voice lowered to bitter growl. Somehow she always knew she'd be in this situation. In her mind, was a miracle she lasted this long without being thrown into jail, "I just wish I knew what I did."

While the woman babbled on to herself, two men in matching uniforms appeared in front of her cell.

"Hey, she's awake," one man pointed out.

"Dr. Leland said to bring her in as soon as she woke up," the other pulled out a card that allowed only official employees like him to open and close the cell doors. The woman was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard the thick glass that separated her from the rest of the building swish open.

"Who are you?" She backed herself into the corner of the wall that her bed was pushed against. These two men were wearing white uniforms, almost like scrubs, not what she would expect from a prison guard. There was something very strange going on. None of this made any sense.

"It's alright," one assured her, "we're just here to escort you to-"

And before he could get another word in, she had leap unexpectedly from her position and dodged right past him. Just as she aimed for the exit, the other man rushed to block her path. All she could think about at that time was getting out. Without a moment's hesitation, she balled her right hand into a fist and hit the man in front of her squarely in the jaw.

She thought she was home free, but just as she was about to run past the doors, she was yanked down to the floor by the man she had punched. It had taken all of five seconds for them to regain their composer and quickly grab onto the flailing woman.

"Let go of me!" She started to yell loudly. Struggling in the arms of the men, she realized she wouldn't be able to get free from their grip. Resigning herself to her fate, she let her body relax as much as in could in the hold of the two burly men.

She was taken down a long corridor filled with little cells just like the one she had been in, but she didn't dare look at any of them. Everything around her felt so surreal, she didn't even know if those yells she was hearing was because of her or not. Maybe she didn't want to know.

"What's going on?" She hadn't felt her lips move, but she knew that that meek broken tone belonged to her. And, she hated it. Still, after a minute or so, no respond came.

"I want an answer, damn it," she said more forcefully, the bit of energy she had before coming back. Still, the men remained silent. This did not go over well for the woman in their arms, she never liked being ignored.

"Oh, so you're not talking to me? Well, fuck you both! Put me down!"

Along the corridors of this strange place, there was little to console her but her own words, however vulgar they were. She wasn't yelling at them, yelling only made a person angry, she couldn't get angry. They didn't seem to mind her, almost acting as if there was no one in their arms.

Soon, they stopped, coming to their destination. A wooden door stood in front of the confused woman with nothing but a sign reading Dr. Joan Leland. One man opened the door while the other chose to push her inside.

She had barely processed what had happened when she was greeted by a light voice.

"Hello, Ms. Torrez."

An African-American woman, dressed in a white lab coat, was standing just a few feet away with a kind, reassuring smile on her face. With just one look around, with the diplomas on the wall and the cushioned seats sitting in front of a desk, it was painfully obvious to see what was going on now.

"Oh hell no, I am not crazy! I DON'T BELONG HERE!"

It had suddenly gotten so much harder for the woman, Ms. Torrez, to breath. Her knees were shaking and she was dizzy. She was losing herself again, going back into that little world that helped her… and hurt her. There was no pain there, no stress, nothing. She felt nothing.

Then, almost at once, she was back. It only lasted a second this time. Looking up, she saw the concern doctor standing over her. When had she fallen?

Dr. Leland raised her hand, attempting to help Ms. Torrez to her feet.

"I know this all must be very confusing to you, but-"

"What's going on?" the still wobbling woman interrupted, "What am I doing in… in _Arkham?"_

There, she had said it. She was in Arkham Asylum.

"Do you remember anything about the past few months?" Leland was given a cold stare, "I guess you don't."

"Ms. Torrez I-"

"Eva," the woman whispered, she was never one for formalities, "I like to be called Eva."

"Alright then, Eva, you… were involved in an accident, a murder actually."

"I killed someone?" That didn't make sense, she wasn't a violent person, confrontational, and a bit pushy at times, but never actually violent.

"Yes, it was a coworker of yours, Mrs. Bella Martin," the doctor said evenly.

There was no word on Eva's part. She just stood there, staring at the ground, no expression on her face. Leland just waited a second to let in sink in. This is usually a troubling time for new inmates, and there was no need to push her right now.

"You can sit down if you like; I know this can't be easy for you."

Eva's eyes moved to the cushions by the desk, and for a second, she contemplated taking her offer. But, she decided against it. What reason does she have to trust this woman? So far, all that's happened is that she woke up in a strange place, dragged around by two brutes, and told about a murder she supposedly committed. What did this woman have to support this claim?

Composing herself, Eva looked up and stared directly at the doctor, "I'm fine," She insisted, "I just want to know what happened after. Why am I _here_?" she emphasized the end, clearly showing her contempt for this place.

Leland was taken aback; Eva's demeanor had just done a complete 180o, definitely never a good sign. She wondered if it was a good idea whether or not to continue speaking with her today.

"During your incarceration," she began slowly, "you were experiencing wild mood swings and often passed out, so the court could not give you a fair trial."

There was a pause. The experienced psychologist started to get uncomfortable with the woman just a couple of feet away staring intensely at her. Cautiously, Leland pressed on.

"Eva, how long have you experienced these episodes?"

"I don't 'experience episodes'" she answered defensively, "I told you, I'm not crazy."

"So, you're saying that you killed a woman out of your own free will?"

Eva glared. This was just getting annoying, she knew she wasn't crazy, she shouldn't be in this place, and she couldn't have possibly done anything that warranted being put here.

"No wonder you guys never cure anyone, you're over here trying to create hypochondriacs."

"I'm just trying to help you, and the first step is admitting there is a problem." Leland said calmly, if Eva Torrez was already becoming difficult, it wasn't a good idea to anger her before knowing what was wrong.

"Oh I have a problem, over-used lines from self help books." Dr. Leland sighed, giving up on having a serious conversation.

"Maybe we should continue this another time."

There was an awkward silence for another few seconds.

"So, what now?" Eva asked, still distant.

"Now, you will be escorted back to your cell, its 1:46 so lunch is over, but a tray of food will be brought to you." Leland walked over to the door, turning the handle.

"During a normal day, you will be awoken at 8 o'clock for breakfast, lunch is at 12:30, and dinner is at 6." The two men from before were still outside waiting to take back the patient.

"And what's supposed to happen in between?" Eva asked, wondering how it worked in a nut house.

"At 4 there is either personal or group therapy, and at 2, you will be allowed time in the recreational room. Do you have any questions?"

"Nope," Eva responded without hesitation. She simply walked right past the good doctor, and was willingly lead back to her cell.

Almost immediately, Dr. Leland took a small tape recorder from her coat pocket. Clicking the record button, she voiced her first impressions of her new patient.

"By her dissociation and mood swings, I suspect post-traumatic stress disorder, but it's unclear as of yet. She quite possibly lapses into her episodes while experiencing strong emotions. This would certainly explain why she began acting so casually. Despite this, I don't think she should be in C block with Gotham's 'rogues.' Request a transfer."

The Doctor leaned back in her chair, and put her recorder down. She looked down at the open file on her desk labeled Evangelina R. Torrez.

"If there's any hope for you at all, it certainly won't be in C block.

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**I promise to continue the **_**Riddler and the Rose**_** and I **_**understand your pain**_** once this is over, I'm sorry to anyone who was looking forward to those updates. Please R&R.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, Red," a high pitched voice, sprinkled with a surprisingly cheery Brooklyn accent, echoed through the Arkham recreation room. Almost immediately, a bubbling blonde woman in her late twenties came bouncing inside, making a beeline to the couch where her redheaded friend sat. The small number of people in the room took notice, some leered at her, and others looked away in fear. By contrast, the woman lying about comfortably was more interested in the magazine she was currently reading for the tenth time.

Reaching the couch, the blonde leaned over, placing her elbows on the armrest closest to her best friend. A bright, toothy grin made its way across her face, like a ten year old with a secret that she was just dying to tell.

"Guess what," she said, barely able to contain her excitement.

"You drew another picture of the Joker in art therapy?" Her companion ventured to guess, she was used to the wacky and overzealous nature of her friend. Then again, what would anyone expect from a woman that went by Harley Quinn?

"Yes... But that's not the news," Harley was a bit disheartened by her Ivy's nonchalant manner; it was cutting into the suspense she was trying to create. But only a very little bit.

"There's gonna be a new girl!" Harley squealed in delight. Finally, another gal pal to talk with. Sure, she loved Red to death, but she just wasn't as fun to talk to when they were locked up. She spent most of her time bored and figuring a way out to get back to her little plants. Sure Harley didn't like this place any more than the last inmate, but it was no use moping about it.

"In our block?"

"Yes!"

Pamela Isley, know more infamously as Poison Ivy, wasn't quite as thrill with the idea.

It had been a long time since anyone new actually came to Arkham, let alone another woman. There was no telling what she would be like. Who knows, maybe the doctors didn't screw up this time and ended up institutionalizing an actually deranged lunatic this time. Heaven knows they didn't need another one after the Joker.

"She arrived last night," a deadpan voice interrupted their conversation. Turning to their left, they found two men playing chess on a table against the wall. One was a tall, thin man, with sharp angular features and auburn hair, the other a shorter man, with a softer, kinder, face sported a dirty blonde mop on his head. The Scarecrow and Mad Hatter, respectively. Neither was looking up from their game.

"I overheard that Dr. Leland will be working with her," the Hatter, Jervis Tetch, commented, enjoying a little chat during the game, it could get very boring sitting in silence all the time.

"So, we'll be seein' her in group therapy huh?" Harley was getting really interested in this new woman. She, Ivy, Professor Crane, and Hatter all had group therapy with Dr. Leland.

It was actually the doctor who had suggested this particular grouping. Harley and Ivy had formed a bond that allowed them to talk freely in front of one another making a group therapy session with them very easy. The men, having a similar bond, and showing no animosity or connection to the women like some of the other inmates, were a perfect addition to the group.

It made them wonder how Leland would insert the new case into the previously established group dynamic.

"More than likely, yes, but, from what I've heard, she hasn't been properly diagnosed." Jonathan Crane, a professor of psychology himself, never hesitated in pointing out Arkham's incompetency. Of course, being the Scarecrow did put a dent in his credibility somewhat.

"What is it that she did to be locked in this dreadful place?" Jervis wondered aloud, the chess game thoroughly forgotten by now.

"She stabbed a woman and burned through most of the Gotham Theater," another voice injected itself to the discussion, belonging to none other than Edward Nigma, the Riddler. He looked up from the book he was reading to see the confused looks directed toward him on his loveseat.

"Am I the only one who gets the paper?" He asked, amused at their lack of information. There was a television in the rec room after all; it not that difficult to just turn on the local news. But of course most people didn't care as much as he did about being well informed.

"Yes, you are the only one who gets the paper" Crane shot back, noticing his condescending grin, "and that's because you threw a tantrum after not being able to do the daily crossword."

Riddler frowned at that accusation, but chose to change the subject, "Well, I don't know about you, but I think staying away from this woman is our best option."

"Are our lives really so boring that we've resorted to gossip?" Ivy asked, honestly annoyed at how much time they had spent talking about this.

"Yup"

"Pretty much"

"As far as I can tell"

"Yes"

"Great," She sighed.

"Ya think they'll let her come to the rec room today? I really want to meet her," Harley bubbled. It was hard for her to contain so much excitement, and the gossip was just making her more and more anxious to meet this mysterious woman.

Ivy turned to her and scoffed, "Do you think the doctors at Arkham would be stupid enough to let a new inmate in here on their first day?"

"You'd be surprised," Crane interjected, "They let Jervis have his hat, and that only feeds his dependency on it, and I've managed to sneak some fear gas by them multiple times before."

"And he just said that in front of the guards over there," Edward pointed out, "this pitiful excuse for a mental institution just doesn't care."

Just as their conversation deviated to the subject of Arkham's 'fine facilities', the door to the recreation room opened, signaling a new arrival.

Almost everyone in the room, the five previously talking rogues especially, turned to see a woman led, none too gracefully, into the room by a particularly brutish looking guard. She was looking down, her short, raven-black hair just barely obscuring her face. Her arms were released from the man's grip, and she was left alone without any words of encouragement or warning.

Tilting her head up slightly, she looked around at her surroundings. Finding an unoccupied corner, she headed straight towards it, making sure not to make eye contact with anyone. She sat down curled up as if she thought that by doing that, she could block out the rest of the world. Most of the people turned back to whatever they were doing, except the rogues.

"Awww, she's shy," Harley whispered, "I'm gonna go talk to her."

"Hold it Harley; we don't know what she's capable of yet," Ivy cautioned, still wary of the slouching woman.

"It would be interesting to know the state of her mental psychosis," Crane stated. Ever the psychologist, he made it his business to know the stability of every inmate. It made it so much easier to manipulate them if the moment ever arose.

"Jonathan, I fear you'd frighten the poor woman," Jervis frowned.

"Your point?" The ex-professor grinned darkly, getting up to introduce himself to Arkham's newest chew-toy.

"I'll go with you," Riddler jumped, not taking his eyes off the woman so interested in the stone wall beside her.

"Why should you go?" Harley asked confused, wasn't he the one who said that they should stay away from her? Nigma did nothing but flash a sly grin before setting his attention back to the woman.

"I think Eddie's got the hots for her." Harley giggled to Ivy.

"That's a disturbing thought."

Currently, Eva chose to focus on the groves and holes in the stone walls of the asylum, ignoring the obvious feeling of eyes on her person. She wasn't uncomfortable with the staring itself so much at the uncertainty of their thoughts. In her mind, if she stayed out of sight, and didn't bring any attention to herself, they'd get bored with her. The last thing she wanted was any connection to Gotham's criminally insane. For now, she would find comfort in whispering to herself quietly.

"Just ignore them, just ignore them, just ignore them," she repeated hoping her chanting would ward off loons.

"Hello." Evidently it didn't.

Despite her better judgment, Eva looked up to be greeted by two men in front of her. Edward made it a point to study her face closely; she was a pretty looking woman, in his opinion. He noted the caramel brown tone of her skin, the thin shape of her upper lip compared to the full lower one, but especially, he looked at her large almond brown eyes. Jonathan on the other hand, rather than focus on the shape of her eyes, noticed the tiniest glimmer of fear in them. A visible shiver ran down her spine, delighting him.

She hesitated in greeting them back, knowing not to trust anyone here. Still, she was not about to look like a coward.

"Hi," she spoke out in a cracked just above a whisper. God, she hated sounding so weak, so pathetic, just another sniveling child.

"There is no need to be wary," Crane said, "we are some of Arkham's more… stable individuals."

"That's not reassuring," she bitterly laughed. The most normal person in an insane asylum was still crazy. So, where did that put her?

"It wasn't meant to be, it was simply a fact," Crane remarked, interested in her faux courage. She was good at presenting a confident air, but that didn't stop her from shivering slightly again.

"Forgive my companion here," Edward oh-so-casually jumped in, holding a hand out for her, "he's not very experience at talking with women."

His voice was smooth, charismatic, as it left his smirking lips. He honestly thought the woman would find him charming.

"And I'm supposing you are," Eva scoffed, finding his advances ridiculous. Who hits on a woman in an insane asylum?

"Are these two bothering you?" a sharp voice came from the other side, two women now came to see the entire ordeal. The redhead glared menacingly at the men, while the blonde made it her business to lift Eva from her position on the ground.

"Here, come with us," Ivy took a hold of her, confusing the poor woman who had no idea what was going on.

"Yeah, Arkham girls gotta stick togetha," Harley jumped up and down leading Eva to the couch where they were previously sitting.

After a few seconds of silence between the two men, Edward spoke up.

"Did they…?"

"Put the new inmate in an awkward situation involving men so as to console her later and bond as the few women of Arkham, yes," Jonathan analyzed, finding it both impressive that they somehow found a way to manipulate them and annoying that he was the one to be manipulated.

"Clever."

**I hope that the inmate's interest in Eva wasn't out of character. I just thought that, seeing as female mental patients are rare, they'd want to know about her, even if it's only to use any abilities she has later. Also, most of the rogues seem to know and interact pretty well in BTAS, there'd have to be a starting point for that?**


	3. Chapter 3

Once away from the men, Harley and Ivy smiled down at the newest addition to Arkham and dumped her onto the old beaten up couch in the middle of the rec room. Her body tensed up and she sank low into the cushion of her seat, staring at them in confusion. Both of the women could sense her apprehension, but neither was known to take the feelings of their victims into consideration, especially not Harley.

"So what's ya name," she asked, plopping down beside her new 'buddy' and grabbing onto her arm. She had long ago lost the concept of personal space, and had no reservations about being overly affectionate with a complete stranger.

"Uh…" Eva did nothing but stare, bewildered and even… angry at the overly cheerful woman. These people really were insane. How could nobody understand that she wanted to be **alone**? She wanted to just get out of this place as soon as possible and get back to a normal life.

"What's tha matta, ya got some kinda identity disorder and ya don't know who ya are?" Harley's head tilted in question like a confused child. Bright blue eyes bore into Eva, something behind them unnerving her slightly.

"No," she responded, pulling herself roughly from strange woman's grip, "my name's Eva."

"Well I'm Harley," she introduced herself, seemingly unaffected by Eva's agitation, "and this is Red."

Eva turned to her left, not even noticing that the red haired woman had sat down beside her.

"Ivy, actually," she smiled, calmer than her companion but no less friendly.

"Harley and Ivy," Eva repeated to herself, finding it harder to breath right, "… as in Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy?"

"Yep! Though those are kinda like pennames, I actually got mine when…" Harley continued to talk, oblivious to the fact that no one was listening.

Eva just sat there, in silent. She was **sitting on a couch** with two of the most **dangerous** and** insane** criminals in Gotham City. This was a joke. She wasn't really crazy enough to be locked up in a stone room with these people. This **had** to be a joke.

"Eitha way, we're sorry we let Professa Crane and Eddie scare ya, Red didn't want us talkin' to ya till we knew ya weren't bonkers."

There were no words that Eva could use to describe the sheer insanity of that statement. They were in a nuthouse, not just any nuthouse but **Arkham Asylum**, and they had the nerve to call **her **'bonkers'?

"Sorry, it's a little hard to tell in** this** place. Of course any woman who would turn down The Riddler can't be _completely_ insane," Ivy smiled.

"Oh dear god, **that** was the man that was hitting on me," the absolutely horrified look on Eva's face not getting passed said man.

"I resent that remark," the Riddler frowned. This was not the way he had wanted to make a first impression, and Ivy was just making it so much worse for him.

"Even though it is true," Crane responded, deadpan amongst the good humor of his comrades. He went back to his seat across from Jervis, who had been watching the three women on the couch curiously.

"As if you've had any better luck with women," Riddler countered, "I vaguely recall that college student that refused to be your _mistress_."

The Scarecrow tensed up and shot the Riddler a deadly glare from across the room. It was surprisingly imposing for someone who, up to this point, hadn't so much a crinkled his brow.

"Never bring that up again," Jonathan Crane's voice went deeper and colder with each word as he snarled out his warning. Behind the bony frame and overall unkempt features was a genius of fear and mind manipulation.

Of course, Eva, watching the scene play out with an odd fascination, despite her previous anxiety, didn't know this. So when the man sitting on the loveseat opposite to her, who would be more than capable of overpowering the other, surrendered immediately, it surprised her.

"I'd never dream of it Jonny," the Riddler smiled, obviously unnerved by Crane's tone but too proud to show it.

A long and awkward silence followed, no one really knowing what to say next. Luckily, Harley always had something to say… whether or not anyone wanted to hear it.

"Hey, ya have Docta Leland too, don't cha?" Harley asked, again coming much to close for comfort. And with that, the entire ordeal with the Scarecrow and the Riddler was completely forgotten.

"What?" Eva leaned back to avoid being only an inch from Harley's grinning face, only to be shoulder to shoulder with Ivy.

"Leland's a really nice docta , she used ta let us have posters in our rooms before someone hid a tunnel unda one. She's gonna be ya main psychologist, and that means yer gonna have group therapy with us. Lucky, huh?"

"Group therapy?" Eva grimaced, not even trying to pretend that she was okay with it. In her, mind it was just another reason to be cooped up with these loons. All she was hoping for when she got here was some personal therapy, a handful of happy pills, and she'd be right as rain.

"It's really not so horrible," Ivy commented, remembering her own aversion to the idea, "you'll be in there with me, Harley, Crane, and Jervis over there." She pointed to the table where the Scarecrow and Mad Hatter had just been sitting. Jervis particularly, was staring at her intently. While there was really nothing too frightening about him, something told her she really didn't want him staring at her. He, however, seemed to catch himself, and nervously blush when he realized that she had noticed him.

"H-hello…" he stuttered, getting up and offering his hand to her, "Jervis T-tetch."

Hesitantly, she took his hand, a little more than curious about him. He was so shy, yet so gentlemanly. He seemed like a kind middle-aged man, not someone she'd expect to see in an insane asylum. Then, again she really shouldn't be surprised about anything after all that's happened.

"I'm sorry," he continued to look at her, his shyness giving way to a more wistful expression, "but you seem very familiar for some reason."

"Did you kidnap her too?" Scarecrow asked nonchalantly, putting the chess pieces aside with the knowledge that their game wasn't going to continue anytime soon.

"No, no, I'm certain I would have remembered her then," he replied, just as casually.

"Honestly, Jervis how could you possibly forget someone as beautiful as Ms. Torrez here," Riddler but in, flashing another sly smile in Eva's direction.

"Keep it in your pants Riddler," Ivy retorted. Harley giggled lightly, amused by the stunned look on his face.

Eva covered her face with one hand. This situation was absolutely ridiculous. These people were insane, murdering, psychopaths. They weren't supposed to be happily greeting the new girl. They weren't supposed to be having trouble remembering whether or not they've met someone. They weren't supposed to be poking fun at a friend's shameless attempts at flirting. They weren't supposed to be so… _normal_.

"What is wrong with you people?!" Eva finally screamed out in frustration.

"You're all smiling and talking like it's all normal, when it's not!" she was up from her place of being sandwiched between Harley and Ivy, and was now yelling at the top of her lungs and flailing her arms around melodramatically, "You're in an insane asylum. You're in a rec room filled with lunatics! This place smells like dirty gym socks! And nobody even gives a shit!"

As she shouted out the last sentence, she realized that that everyone in the room, even those who hadn't paid her any mind when she entered, was staring at her. Eva just stood there, embarrassed more than anything, hoping that no one noticed the little tidbit where she called everyone a lunatic.

Before anyone could respond though, there was the sound of someone, very loudly, sniffing the air.

"It kinda does smell like gym socks," Harley's voice rang out.

After another second, the people in the room started to laugh; even the normally sour Scarecrow was crookedly smiling in amusement. Eva, while surprised, also started laughing, not even caring when Harley put an arm around her.

"I didn't think anyone else noticed," Ivy chuckled, not expected Eva to say something like that. She agreed with her… the inmates were much too casual about being in an insane asylum.

"Yer funny Eva," Harley giggled. Looking at Harley, Eva was amazed that she had thought of her as a threat. She was actually really nice, a little too cheery for her taste, but a sweet woman nonetheless. It was hard to imagine her as an insane and evil henchwoman like the news usually did.

"What can I say, I've always had a flair for the dramatic," Eva smiled. She was beginning to warm up to these people. She didn't trust them of course but… they weren't so bad.

"I knew I saw you somewhere," Jervis snapped his fingers in triumph, "you where… Ismene, in a local adaption of Antigone, where you not?"

"Yeah," Eva was surprised, that was about five years ago. She thought no one even knew, "you saw that?"

"You're an actress?" Harley asked curiously.

"Not really," Eva admitted, "I mostly work as costume designer at Gotham Theater..." she trailed off, remembering in that moment that she was no longer an employee at the prestigious theater, "at least, I used to."

It hit her then that the life she had before was over. What would happen to her when she got out of this place? She couldn't just return to her apartment, ask for her job back, and hope that people don't mind the fact that she was institutionalized. She committed the most heinous of crimes. She **killed** someone. And she didn't even remember how or when. The world **despised** her, and it would never take her back.

Just as she realized that, a sharp bell rang, signaling a new rotation of inmates to have recreation time. Harley grabbed onto a still distraught Eva in excitement, after all, group therapy for her was just another reason to be with her friends.

"Come on, Eva, group therapy's startin'," she yelled out, also holding onto Jervis. The Scarecrow and Riddler started to follow, but Ivy stopped them.

"So, what do you two think?" she asked, watching the woman being dragged away by her best friend carefully. From the random outburst earlier to the melancholy look on her face now, it was hard to tell how this new woman was taking everything.

"A costume designer who occasionally acts? She doesn't seem very useful," Crane replied, not seeing any potential in her.

"Well she seems to be a woman of average intelligence and strength, but she could be of some use," Riddler said. Really, he wasn't actually sure about her abilities, but he was giving her the benefit of the doubt. Of course, if she proved to be too incompetent, too troublesome or just plain useless, he won't have anything to do with her.

"For the time being, we should all keep an eye out."

* * *

**So, Eva's obviously taking her institutionalization in stride, Ivy is suspicious, Riddler is vaguely interested, Harley's happy to have a new friend, Scarecrow doesn't care, and Hatter… I never really know about him.**


End file.
